


Verdant Reunion

by SeasaltStars



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Explicit Sex, First Time, First Time Sex, Happy Sex, M/M, Post-Timeskip, Praise Kink, They love each other so much, Verdant Wind route, pillow princess linhardt, this ended up being way longer than i thought so have fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-29 00:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21146024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeasaltStars/pseuds/SeasaltStars
Summary: Five years was far too long of a wait indeed.





	Verdant Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyy so this is from the QitL timeline but I needed to write it now before I lost it. So yes! I promise QitL goes places! Have fun, I'm really proud of this one!
> 
> Feedback IS extremely appreciated, I'm still very new to posting my writing so literally everything helps. Thank you and enjoy!

Ignatz had always been prone to sensory overload. Sound was the worst; not always volume per se, but abundance. Too many at once, whether in bursts or a consistent hum. It had always sent his mind into a fog, gave him the feeling of his mind pulling away from his eyes, drawing further into his head like a snail into its shell.

Returning to Garreg Mach that night, after five agonizing years, had given him that same feeling. He’d remembered the promise, and could only pray that everyone else had as well. He knew they would. He never doubted them. The fighting had already started by the time he closed in, arrow already nocked, and the rest passed in a blur. Even recalling it now could only conjure an oily smear across the canvas of his mind.

Everyone had grown so different, and yet… remained comfortably the same. /Felt/ the same. They had all grown so beautiful, in their own ways. They felt like /them/, like fully realized versions of themselves. Ignatz wondered if any of his old classmates felt the same way about him.

The others trailed into the abandoned monastery as the night wore on. Ashe and Caspar, Ferdie and Dorothea, Sylvain and Felix… everyone who’d made the promise.

Ignatz heard Linhardt before he saw him. Though he hadn’t heard his voice in five years, the memory of it was still fresh in his mind as is they’d only parted the day before. And it hadn’t changed one bit. He rounded the corner to see Linhardt talking with Byleth; whatever he was discussing halted immediately as his eyes met Ignatz’.

“… Ignatz…?”

They stood there motionless, neither able to do anything beyond take in the image of the other. Linhardt’s dollish features had grown longer, more elegant, from the line of his jaw to his hair, long and full and half-pulled back into a neat bun. He was taller, lithe yet soft, and that distinct ‘alert’ look Ignatz had memorized so well still shone in his eyes.

Byleth smiled, and took the cue to back away as the two rushed into each other’s arms.

“Linhardt,” Ignatz breathed, just to say his name. “Lin…”

“Room,” Linhardt said into Ignatz’ ear, nuzzling him close in the embrace. “We’ve waited too long, let’s go talk freely, just the two of us…”

Ignatz certainly didn’t need convincing. They hurried across the grounds to Ignatz’ old dorm room, the way still habituated in both of them.

The room had been left untouched. The only sign of time’s passage was the dusk on the desk, the nightstand.

The moment Ignatz closed the door behind them, Linhardt hurled himself back into his embrace. He held him close, ran his hands through his hair, over his broadened shoulders, coming to a rest at his waist.

“Look at you… look at /you/, Ignatz, what a man you’ve become…”

Tears welled in Linhardt’s eyes. And Ignatz knew, from much experience, that they weren’t something that came easily to him.

“Like someone out of a storybook… a forest prince, or maybe a faerie… and look at that, you’ve even learned to wear a sword!”

He cupped Ignatz’ face in his hands, running his fingers along his jaw over and over, searching his elven features with such /excitement/…

And Ignatz, always so modest, always so shy and restrained, dared to let himself run a hand through Linhardt’s hair. The strands were soft as silk, and he smelled faintly of vanilla.

“… You still love me…”

It wasn’t a question, but a breath of bewilderment Ignatz couldn’t contain.

Linhardt’s composure broke fully then, his eyes going wide. “… Of course… of course I still love you, every day, I meant it in every letter, and I damn near counted down the days until we came back here and I could see you again…”

“I was…” Ignatz’ voice felt so small. “… Worried… that maybe we’d grown too differently…”

Linhardt laughed at that. “No, never, I spent the last five years being the same lazy brat I’ve always been. And you… oh Goddess, Ignatz-“

He couldn’t resist the urge anymore and kissed him, his fingers pressing into the cropped hair above Ignatz’ neck. And Ignatz responded in kind, dragging Linhardt’s waist against his, lacing his arms around him to hold him close, so close, both starved after five years apart.

It overwhelmed Ignatz in the most wonderful of ways. Linhardt, /Linhardt/, gentle and understanding and so stunningly /beautiful/, in his arms again. Part of his mind still couldn’t believe it, surely this had to be a dream, a fantasy, and the lips against his couldn’t be real.

But they were. Feeling bold, Ignatz took the opportunity to move to Linhardt’s jaw once the kiss broke, tilting his head back just a little and pulling the ribbon from his carefully tied bun. Linhardt gave this little humming moan as Ignatz ran his hands through the sheets of his soft hair, then found his senses strangely deprived when Ignatz moved to his neck only to be met with the high collar of his shirt.

Their movements lulled to a pause, Ignatz breathing hard against Linhardt’s covered neck, Linhardt letting his head remain tilted back, eyes closed, his body taking in every bit of Ignatz against him.

He /needed/ it. He’d needed it for far too long.

Ignatz himself felt the fear welling up beneath his ribs, the hesitation of ‘what now?’. He wanted to keep kissing Linhardt, he never wanted to /stop/ kissing him. But the idea of unbuttoning his shirt, of removing it, of seeing his bare chest, and then what after?

“Ignatz… love…”

There was that word. /Love/. One simple word that, in their later months at the Academy, Linhardt had taken and turned into a title of endearment. Ignatz wanted to kick himself for always feeling too awkward to have done the same for him.

Linhardt pressed his fingers under Ignatz’ chin and raised his face to meet his.

“… You can keep going, if you want. It’s all right.” He kissed Ignatz gently on the lips, just the lightest brush. “… I know you have a hard time wanting things. It’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid. No one is going to punish you here, because you aren’t doing anything wrong.”

That was it, Ignatz knew. That was what set Linhardt apart from the rest, and always has. That’s what made Linhardt feel safer than his own home, like a cup of tea on a frosty day, like a patch of sunlight in a meadow.

The way he understood how much Ignatz hurt himself, and how to break him out of it.

It was enough to cause a tear to sting in his eye. With as delicate of a touch as he could manage, Ignatz brushed a stray lock from Linhardt’s face.

“… Thank you, Lin…”

Linhardt didn’t say anything. Only smiled, his lips that perfect shade of pale rose that Ignatz took so much care to get right when he painted.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, realizing how unfair it was to Linhardt, keeping all these thoughts to himself. “I… I’m so sorry, I can’t… I can’t put the words together…”

Linhardt silenced him with a kiss. “You don’t need to, love. You should see your expression right now, it’s telling me everything.”

Ignatz went hot under his collar.

Linhardt leaned into him for a moment, head resting on his shoulder, arms loosely around his waist. Ignatz reciprocated the gesture, still unsure of what to do beyond that, but more than happy to hold Linhardt against him until time itself ended.

“… Ignatz… my Ignatz…”

A shiver ran down Ignatz’ spine.

“Can I ask something of you.”

“Anything,” he said without the slightest hesitation.

Linhardt tilted his head to meet his gaze again, his eyes softened. He hesitated there a moment… it was odd for Linhardt to hesitate.

“… Will you take me to bed, Ignatz?”

Ignatz’ expression must have changed drastically, because he saw Linhardt recoil at it.

“I- I understand if you’re uncomfortable with it. We could only go as far as you’re willing… or not at all. Please don’t feel like you have to.”

Thoughts raced through Ignatz’ head, apprehension and excitement clashing in his chest in a strange and uncomfortable mix.

It’s okay to want things, Linhardt’s voice echoed in his mind. You can keep going. You’re not doing anything wrong.

He leaned to kiss Linhardt, gentle, but his embrace tightened just a little around him.

“… I want to. I will. I just… don’t know where to start.”

Linhardt rested their foreheads together, brushing the tips of his fingers across the back of Ignatz’ neck again, satisfied with the shaky breath it drew from him.

“I’ll lead you, love. Do you trust me with that?”

As if the answer wasn’t a clear and unwavering “Yes.”

“All right.” Linhardt’s voice softened, a sweetness to the edge of his words now. The affection made Ignatz’ heart flutter. “Well… you could start by helping me out of these clothes. You want to see me, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” Ignatz allowed to himself to admit.

Slowly, carefully, Ignatz began undoing the buttons from all the maddening layers Linhardt was wearing. Linhardt helped him as well, popping each button, fastener, belt strap, letting the layers fall off each other one by one until only their trousers remained.

“Go ahead, love.”

But, face flushed a deep red, Ignatz couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he lifted Linhardt up (who beeped a little ‘Oh!’ in response) and carried him to the bed. Linhardt took the cue and leaned back into the pillow.

“There you are, see? Look at you, love. You’re doing so well. Thank you.”

Ignatz felt his face go hotter, the straining in his trousers getting worse.

Linhardt swayed his hips a little, inviting Ignatz back to his good work. “Help me out of these, and it’ll free up a place for you to sit.”

Ignatz gulped, unable to find a clever way around this one. It’s okay to want, he reminded himself. It’s okay. He hooked his thumbs under the sides and, in as controlled a motion as possible, pulled Linhardt free. But the actual execution was a little sloppier than intended, Linhardt chuckling this sweet little note as he watched the struggle. Either way, the trousers ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor, and Linhardt laid exposed on Ignatz’ bed.

“There… tell me, was that so hard?”

“… No.”

“See? None of it will be so scary, if we keep this up.”

He spread his legs a bit, opening a spot for Ignatz to slot between his thighs. Ignatz took the invitation and moved into the space, but couldn’t bring himself to… look at him.

“Be brave, love. Look at me. It’s okay.”

“This isn’t fair,” Ignatz huffed, sounding a little more childish than he would’ve liked. “Why am I so flustered, but you don’t mind at all?”

Linhardt laughed, a delightful sound, as soft around the edges as his words. “That’s the beauty of everyone being different, huh Iggy?”

Something about him switching to ‘Iggy’ made Ignatz’ heart pang in a pleasant, bright way, like striking a tine of a music box.

He mustered the courage to look down at Linhardt now. He was sprawled lazily under him, completely relaxed, hair painting swaths of emerald across the pillow. His cock /had/ to be aching, but if it was, Linhardt was expertly not showing it. Ignatz still couldn’t make himself look at it for too long, his blush reaching his neck now.

“… Ignatz.”

He met his gaze again. Linhardt’s usual dry coyness tinged his expression, but his demeanor remained sweet. Ignatz guessed that was for his sake, and wondered where in the /world/ Linhardt had become so good at composing himself.

“Do you want to touch me, Ignatz?”

Ignatz nodded, clenching his jaw, his eyes going a little wider with the apprehension.

“Then touch me. Anywhere you want. Go as far as you please, and I’ll enjoy every moment of it. You’re so good at making me happy, you know. You’ve always been so accommodating and wonderful.”

Something about the way Linhardt praised him made his whole body /ache/, and the urge to touch himself just to relieve some of it, /any/ of it, was growing. 

“My Ignatz,” he continued in a breathy voice, twirling a lock idly against the pillow. “Won’t you touch me, my Ignatz? You’ve wanted to touch me for five years, haven’t you? Won’t you make me feel good now?”

The words broke him. Unable to find the courage to touch Linhardt’s cock just yet, Ignatz dragged the tips of his fingers from the juts of his hip, up his soft stomach, along his chest, using the same soft pressure he used for his paintbrushes. Linhardt shuddered beneath him, sighing a shaky breath, head tilted to the side.

“Yes, yes, that’s perfect,” he purred. “Just like that…”

Ignatz lingered at his chest a moment, feeling daring enough to brush his thumbs over Linhardt’s nipples. Linhardt’s back arched a little at that, drawing a gasp through his smile.

“Ignatz,” he breathed again as he dragged his fingers back down the same trail, bracing his hips. Ignatz thumbed little circles into the soft flesh between the juts of his hip and his lower abdomen, and Linhardt moaned a soft note, squirming a little under the touch, growing desperate.

“Kiss me,” he said, his voice a little hurried now. “Let me feel more of you, please…

Not sure where exactly he wanted the kiss, Ignatz kept his thumbs working where they were and leaned to press a kiss into the soft dip beneath Linhardt’s sternum. With a satisfactory sigh confirming his efforts, Ignatz took it a step further and nuzzled up along Linhardt’s chest, trailing kisses up his neck, and ending with his lips against Linhardt’s once again.

They embraced each other now, kissing deeply, the touch of their bare chests sending shooting stars through Ignatz’ whole body. He had kissed Linhardt before, of course, in their days at the Academy, but this was so different, so charged and frightening and /wonderful/. Almost absently, he let his waist fall to Linhardt’s. The touch of Linhardt’s cock against his, even if blocked by a layer of trousers, was /electricity/, and he began to grind against him with that same careful restraint he couldn’t quite shake yet.

“Ignatz, ah- Ignatz, yes, yes, that’s- ahhh-“

Ignatz’ chest thrummed with a sort of pride at doing something to finally knock the words out of Linhardt. He silenced the remaining noises with his mouth, kissing him slow and soft, lacing his fingers with his. If the Goddess herself had dropped from the heavens and offered right then, he would have chosen to exist in this moment forever.

“W-Wait, Ignatz, wait-“

Ignatz stopped immediately and reeled back, pulling his hips away from Linhardt. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Linhardt gave a soft laugh. “No, never, you’re doing beautifully.” He propped up on his elbows and motioned to the bag he’d left slung over the back of the desk chair. “There was more I wanted to do before we, hm, got too ahead of ourselves.” He turned his gaze back toward Ignatz, his eyes heavy-lidded, cheeks rosy. “… If that’s all right with you, of course.”

Ignatz nodded. “What did you have in mind?”

“In my bag, there’s a little crystal vial. Could you please bring it over?”

It was harder to pull away from Linhardt than Ignatz expected, but after rummaging a moment through Linhardt’s disastrous bag of books, sweets wrappers, and amusingly nonsensical junk, he found the vial. And he knew right away what it was for.

“Good, that’s the one.”

Ignatz returned, already coating his hand in the oil, trying to rub whatever warmth he could into it and knowing Linhardt would berate him for his hands being so cold.

“Practiced with this part?” Linhardt cocked his head to give Ignatz that coy side-eye of his.

“Just… with myself.” Goddess, his face felt hot.

Linhardt laughed, gave him a playful nudge with his knee, and settled back onto the bed. “And here you were, acting /so/ modest all these years.”

“I- It’s different when it’s just me!”

“Did you think of me?” Linhardt continued to tease. “Is this how you imagined it, my Ignatz? Is this better?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “… To all of it.”

Linhardt hummed in approval. “You’re so good, my Ignatz… so honest. Such a good, humble boy.”

Ignatz /twitched/ at that one.

“… Where do you want it?”

He could see Linhardt tense a little bit this time.

“… How comfortable are you feeling now?”

“Better,” he said hesitantly. Not untrue, but he wasn’t completely settled either.

Linhardt nodded, looking off to the corner of the room now. “All right… if you’re feeling up for it, then… inside me. Start with one.”

Ignatz placed his free hand back on Linhardt’s hip, thumbing the soft skin. “Are you sure, Lin?”

Linhardt laughed, but was still unable to meet Ignatz’ eyes. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t sure. I want you, love. I’ve wanted you for so long…”

That was enough to melt Ignatz’ apprehension. Keeping his left hand bracing his hip, he pressed a slick finger against Linhardt’s entrance. Linhardt gasped and tensed again, but said nothing.

“I- I’ll tell you if it’s too much, I promise, Iggy…”

There was ‘Iggy’ again, doing things to Ignatz’ heart. Not one to disappoint his Linhardt, he slid inside of him, drawing a soft shivering whine. Linhardt clutched tighter at the sheets now, head listing to the side, eyes closed.

Ignatz was right before; it really wasn’t the same thing when it was just yourself. Ironically the first time he’d fingered himself, he hadn’t actually been thinking of Linhardt. That had been before they’d established this kind of relationship. He stroked inside of him gently, prodding, searching for his sweet spot. He could see the strain in Linhardt’s inner thighs, now held wide around him, and savored the shaky little pants he was making now.

“Another,” he demanded, his voice straining now.

Ignatz pushed a second finger in, crooking both just a little. Linhardt whined again and arched his back just a tiny bit, and Ignatz knew he could do better. He moved his free hand from Linhardt’s hip to his stomach know, brushing soft trails in the sensitive skin and earning another shallow moan.

“Ignatz… Ig-natz…”

Well, he must have been doing something right. He worked him like this for a few more minutes, wanting to be completely sure Linhardt was ready before he pushed the third in. Linhardt /keened/ in response, his breathy noises getting louder.

If he approved of that, Ignatz knew he’s make him /sing/ at what came next. Knowing he’d found it, he pressed all three fingers gently into his sweet spot, and sure enough Linhardt damn near /screamed/. The most accurate archer in the Academy never missed, after all.

“IGNATZ!” he yelped, but whatever remaining words were smothered out of him again as Ignatz finally, mercifully grasped him with his free hand, slick with precum. He worked Linhardt in a gentle rhythm, pressing him in time with his strokes, both motions soft at first, firming up just a little as he went on.

“Ignatz,” Linhardt was gasping, both hands reaching back to brace the headboard now. “Ignatz, ah, ah, Ignatz, ah- Ignatz- FUCK, AH-“

Linhardt came with another near-scream, thrusting his hips up as Ignatz grasped him through it, spilling onto himself. He fell back to the sheets tense and shivering, panting hard.

Ignatz strained so /badly/ seeing Linhardt like this, flushed a beautiful shade of pink, hair in gentle tangles on the pillow, covered in his own mess. He couldn’t help himself, and gently brought Linhardt’s knee up to kiss the inside of his thigh.

“F-Fuck, love…” He wiped the sweat from his forehead, still trying to catch his breath. “… I didn’t want to come so quickly…”

“I’m sorry,” Ignatz said quickly, guilt crushing his chest. “I’m so sorry-“

“No, don’t be, it’s not your fault…” Linhardt sighed through a smile. “No, that just goes to show how /excellent/ you were. You did beautifully. It’s my own fault, thinking I would last against you.”

Linhardt gave him that coy look again, but his heavy lids closed as his chest returned to slow, deep breaths. The ache in Ignatz’ trousers was becoming unbearable, and he feared for a moment that Linhardt had fallen asleep. It was by no means beyond reason for him.

“… You’re so quiet, my Ignatz… it’s not a bad thing. I just didn’t expect you to be the quiet type during sex.”

“I… I just don’t know what to say.” He shook his head, but couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not good at saying little things like that… it makes me feel weird.”

Linhardt opened his eyes, smiling softly at him. “You certainly enjoy hearing them, though.”

“… Yeah. I do.”

“Look at you, you poor thing…” Apparently all Linhardt needed was a moment’s rest, because that sweet tone returned to his voice. “We can’t leave you neglected like that, can we? Please, take those off now. Let me see you.”

This part… was harder. Handling Linhardt was easier when he wasn’t exposed, when he wasn’t involved to /that/ degree, but finally removing his trousers, freeing himself… it made him feel a thousand times more awkward.

Linhardt stared approvingly, shifting a little in the sheets. “You look tense again, love. There’s no need to be shy. It’s okay.”

Ignatz returned to his position between Linhardt’s thighs, but the apprehension sank firmly into his stomach, heavy as lead.

“… Oh, fine, I can’t just leave you like this. Do you want a little help?”

Ignatz nodded.

Linhardt sat up and brushed a thumb through some of the mess on his stomach. Slowly, waiting for Ignatz to stop him if it was too much, he lowered it to his tip and began to rub it in slow circles.

Ignatz gasped, his instinct to shut his eyes smothered by his /need/ to see it. Linhardt’s delicate fingers, soft and uncalloused from all the work he didn’t do, traced him in slow, curious motions, eventually grasping him for /tortuously/ slow pulls. Ignatz threw his head back and moaned, a spasm shooting down his back.

“So sensitive…” Linhardt hummed approvingly. “You’ve wanted this, haven’t you? You’ve wanted my touch… such a good boy. So patient.”

Ignatz /sobbed/, biting down on his lip to hold his sounds in.

And suddenly, the warmth of Linhardt’s hand was gone, making Ignatz’ hips jerk to try and find it again.

“No, you deserve more than that, love.” Linhardt leaned back, settled into the bed, opening up.

“… Take me, Ignatz. Let me have you for /real/, this time.”

Ignatz tensed. “Won’t that hurt now?”

Linhardt shook his head. “Even if it does, I don’t care. I want you. I /want/ you. If you’re… willing to give it to me.”

Even after everything, all of this, Linhardt’s ‘alert’ look was back, bold and shining in his eyes.

It’s okay to want. And oh, how he /did/ want to give it.

Ignatz located the oil and coated himself again, giving himself a few strokes and /Goddess/, he really was sensitive, and wasn’t sure how much longer he’d hold out.

“If I may make one last request, love?”

Ignatz returned his focus to Linhardt’s elegant face.

“… Please, take your glasses off. I want to see you. And I know you’re nearsighted, so you have no excuse.”

He said the last bit playfully, but otherwise there was an uncanny softness to the request. Seeing no reason not to, Ignatz removed his glasses and tossed them somewhere behind them, out of the way.

Ignatz readied himself against Linhardt, not entirely sure how to handle himself, but certain it would happen along the way.

“Are you ready?”

“I have /been/ ready for the last five years, my Ignatz.”

Fair enough. With that, Ignatz pushed in slowly, just a little.

A new noise came from Linhardt, and even Ignatz found himself gasping at the feeling, which was /entirely/ new. He had never… been inside anyone before. A touch was a touch, but /this/-

“Keep going,” Linhardt demanded. “Give it to me, give me all of you, ah…”

Still slow, apprehensive, waiting for Linhardt to yell ‘stop’ from the pain, Ignatz went all the way to the base, lingering there to savor this /wonderful/ new feeling of Linhardt around him.

This was it. All those years of waiting, wondering if he would even /see/ Linhardt again, and he was inside him.

“Fuck me,” Linhardt gasped in a small voice beneath him. “/Fuck/ me, Ignatz, don’t make me wait any longer!”

Whatever apprehension remained evaporated with those words. Slowly, experimental, Ignatz started moving in tiny thrusts, and the bliss they brought was beyond words. Literally. If you asked Ignatz, he would never find the words to describe what he was feeling in that moment.

“Yes, love, that’s it- ah, fuck- harder, please-“

Ignatz picked up the pace, the overwhelming need to meet his own desire growing. He felt Linhardt wrap his legs around his back, making it easier to hit him deeper, and he couldn’t control his shuddery panting anymore. He moved one hand to thread his fingers with Linhardt’s, and leaned onto his chest with a particularly deep stroke. Ignatz silenced the resulting moan with a kiss.

“Ignatz,” Linhardt breathed against his lips, “Ignatz, Ignatz, Ignatz…”

“I-I’m close,” he strained, squeezing Linhardt’s hand tighter.

“Good, good Ignatz- yes, ah, don’t stop, I want it, I want you to fill me, ah, ahh-“

With a few more rocks of his hips, Ignatz’ orgasm came on strong, throwing his head back and arching his back as his hips stayed flush against Linhardt. He looked back down as he panted through it, watching Linhardt’s face as he filled with his warmth, eyes closed, breaths shallow. He realized he’s pressed into the soft spot between Linhard’t shoulder and chest to arch up, and that spot would definitely bruise later, and he felt a small twang of guilt.

Ignatz pulled away gently, exhaustion settling over him like a wool blanket. He cleaned up best he could, then collapsed beside Linhardt.

“You…” His voice was heavy with sleep already. “You were so wonderful, love… my Ignatz… better than any dream I had of you…”

Ignatz tilted his face toward him, bushing a lock away from his eyes. He kissed him gently on his perfect, rosy lips. 

“I love you, Lin. I’m… I’m so happy to be with you again.”

Linhardt, unable to muster the energy to kiss him back, settled for nudging his forehead against him instead. “No more nights alone.”

No more, Ignatz, thought, as he laced his fingers with Linhardt’s, never intending to let him go again.


End file.
